


Teen angel

by ca_te



Category: Glee
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Wingfic, Wings, angel!Kurt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-18
Updated: 2013-09-18
Packaged: 2017-12-26 23:42:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/971676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ca_te/pseuds/ca_te
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine's grandomother used to talk to him about angel and Blaine spent his life looking for them, until a fated day on Dalton's staircase.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teen angel

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kettlebaggins](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kettlebaggins).



> Inspired by [this](http://kettlebaggins.tumblr.com/post/59524624182/a-different-sort-of-teen-angel) gorgeous fanart by [kettlebaggins](http://kettlebaggins.tumblr.com/). This is for her because she is sweet and kind and insanely talented.
> 
> There is a fellow piece to this: ["Little bird"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/971686).

His grandmother often talked to him about angels. As she was tucking Blaine into bed at night, she would lean closer, chocolate eyes glinting softly, and she would lower her voice as though she was about to reveal him the biggest of all secrets. They were beautiful, she used to say, and kind and brave. When they sang the stars and the clouds stopped to listen. Blaine loved those stories, loved his grandma’s voice when she told them, full of wonder as though she was still a little girl.

“Can we see angels, lola?”

“Of course we can, sweetheart. Some of them live down here, on Earth, with us.”

“But how can you tell someone is an angel?”

His grandmother had smiled then, long fingers combing Blaine’s curls.

“Oh you can always tell. When you’ll meet one you’ll know.”

*

The only thing that Blaine remembers from Lola’s funeral are the white flowers covering the coffin and the tight grip of Cooper’s hand around his. He spent the whole day praying that the angels could come down and take his grandma by the hand. They would know how to make her laugh, they would guide her to a place where she wouldn’t be in pain anymore, where the angels would sing her favorite Frank Sinatra’s songs.

*

There were no angels in sight when they cracked his bones and threw insults at him. When he lied on the sidewalk, looking at the dark sky with music pouring out from the gym’s door. There were no white wings and words sung to him as he lied broken in a hospital bed, his parents worried sick and Cooper refusing to leave the room even to eat.

*

His lola used to say that music was the speech of angels; Blaine used to think she might just be an angel, because she sang so beautifully. When he enrolled at Dalton, he didn’t have any doubt about becoming a Warbler.

*

Blaine hasn’t stopped looking, though. When he is walking at the mall, when he goes from one class to the other, when he sings his heart out on stage at competitions. If his grandmother  believed in angels so much, then he wants to do the same. It doesn’t matter how long it will take, one day he will meet an angel and know that everything she whispered to him was true.

*

In his dreams Blaine is walking down a busy street, he is surrounded by people, coming and going, grey and colored, but no one lingers more than a few instants. In his dreams there is a boy that turns towards him and smiles, azure-grey eyes glinting. Blaine looks at him and he simply knows. In his dreams the boy  unfolds his wings, white like milk and strong as the wind.

*

Blaine hurries down the corridor, headed towards the common room. Wes will have his head if he ends up being late for rehearsals again. He has spent hours just hopping around to “Teenage dream” yesterday night. He loves the song and wants to do it justice.

“Excuse me?”

Blaine stops in his tracks; he remembers the first days at Dalton, always in need to ask for directions and he knows a proper gentleman always tries to be helpful. He turns and for an instant the world shifts out of focus. Standing on the stairs there is a boy, azure-grey eyes and pale skin, just like the ones of his dreams. And just as his Lola told him, he _knows_ , he can see it in the boy’s shy smile, he can tell from the way his whole body is tingling.

“I’m Blaine.”

The boy’s hand is warm, his skin smooth.

“Kurt.”

As they rush down the corner, Blaine is sure he can glimpse the whiteness of Kurt’s wings out of the corner of his eye.


End file.
